Permanent
by CanvasWonder
Summary: They say love can make people do crazy things, so when Castiel is threatened and Dean is the only one who can save him, the question is just how far could it push a mad man?
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

The Winchester siblings had a series of nighttime rituals which they went through every evening before settling into their respective beds; as Sam checked the salt lines and ran a comb through his hair, Dean would search the room for hex bags while a toothbrush worked furiously within his mouth. Neither boy would bother to ask the other if things were in order, because they always were. After their checks, Sam would toss his brush in his bag and flop down on one of the stiff motel mattresses and Dean would retire to the bathroom to rinse the toothpaste from his mouth, and perhaps shower if he hadn't already. Bloody, broken, or dying the boys always preformed their rituals without delay.

Tonight was no different. After their rituals were complete, both boys slid lazily into bed and Dean watched as Sam switched the beside lamp off, dousing the room in darkness. As was customary, Dean slept facing his little brother, and Sammy turned to face the wall. Though his brother's protective eyes were often the only thing that allowed him to sleep without the interruption of nightmares, he never had liked the way Dean watched him until he dozed off.

Dean was oblivious to Sam's minor discomfort, as always. Though he was watching Sam physically, his mind was in places much further away than the boy in the bed across from me. Sometimes he was back on the rack, crying hoarsely for help, or breaking out of a pine box and hoping he clawed his way out of the soil before his lungs exploded from the lack of air; others he wandering around in a forest full of monsters that was popularly known as purgatory. On occasion a happy memory would slide its way through, but every time Dean beat it back with fervor. He never wanted the few memories of happiness to be tainted by the thousands of painful ones.

Shivering at the thought of his mother's sweet voice being corrupted, or Sammy's childish laughter disappearing from his memories, he pulled the blankets closer around himself and listened carefully to his brother's breathing in the darkened room. This was how Dean spent most of his nights; lying in wait for Sam's snores, his left foot twitching irritably as he fought every urge to fall asleep himself.

Protect Sammy. That was his job, and if he wasn't sure that Sam was getting a good night's rest he wasn't doing his job. Dean sighed irritably some time later, after Sam had begun to snore, and threw his pillow to the floor with frustrated finality. He'd been trying to get comfortable for hours, and it simply was not happening.

"Damn adrenaline," He grumbled, blaming his hunt from earlier that evening on his inability to sleep. Being careful not to wake his sleeping brother, the older Winchester climbed out of bed and slipped on a pair of jeans and a rumpled shirt, lacing up his boots before slipping silently out of the room and fingering the keys in his pocket with a growing smirk.

As many times as he had rebuilt her from the frame up, the Impala was the closest thing to a child Dean could ever have. Simply rolling the keys around in his pocket made him grin like a fool, but when his eyes landed on the sleek '67, his heart soared. The car was just as damaged as he was- dented, chipped, and imperfect- but that's what made her all the more appealing to her owner.

"How about a night on the town, baby," Dean offered, chuckling weakly at his own actions as he swung the door open and the hinges released their customary squeak of protest. Slotting the keys into the ignition, he slammed the door shut and let the engine purr idly for a moment as he tried to remember any liquor stores or icehouses he might have spotted on his way into this small rinky-dink town.

Deciding it might be best to simply drive, Dean turned in his seat to make sure the coast was clear for reverse and nearly jumped out of his skin as he came nose-to-nose with an all too familiar being.

"Dammit, Cas," He barked, gripping the collar of the angels coat and pushing harshly, pressing his back to the seat before releasing him with a startled blink, realizing what he'd done.

"I apologize," Castiel murmured, his voice low and careful as he smoothed the creases in his signature trench coat and cleared his throat. "I did not mean to intrude on your personal space."

"You never do," Dean sighed, shaking his head as he combed his fingers through his hair. He honestly hadn't intended to slam Cas back against the seat as he had- it was simply a gut reaction. The angel watched him with concerned cerulean eyes, his hand reaching out to rest on Dean's arm. Dean eyed Cas' long, pale fingers where they contrasted the black color of his jacket so brightly.

"You haven't slept at all tonight," The angel worried, his grip on Dean's arm tightening gently.

"Says who?" Dean grumbled irritably, pulling his arm away from the smaller man. Castiel let his own hand fall into his lap, his frown deepening.

"I can see it in your eyes, Dean," Castiel answered, his eyes roaming over Dean's tired face.

"That's bull, Cas," Dean scoffed. "This isn't a book- you don't see shit in people's eyes,"

Hurt flashed across Castiel's features, brief and fleeting like a comet, but enough for Dean to see it. He immediately regretted his sour words to the angel and sighed, pushing his door open and stepping out of the car. Castiel's face contorted in true pain as he watched Dean exit the vehicle, but before he could make a move to step out of the car after him, Dean was opening the door closest to the angel and sliding into the seat beside him. The door closed once more with a slid thud, and Castiel stiffened as he felt the heat of the man beside him bleeding into the air around him.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," Dean sighed, opening his arms in offer. Castiel fell into the embrace silently, tucking his head under Dean's chin and sighing contently as strong arms encircled him, holding him tightly against his lover's broad chest.

"Why have you been avoiding sleep, if you do not mind my asking?" Castiel muttered, his lips brushing softly against Dean's collar bone as he spoke. Though the movement would have been arousing in most cases, Dean couldn't find even a flicker of desire in his heart as he shrugged. His hands moved slowly up and down Castiel's back, stopping in their path on occasion to rub a small circle or two before moving on.

"Afraid of the dark, I guess," Dean eventually muttered, not bothering to smile at his own joke.

"You have no reason to be," Castiel frowned, a crease appearing between his eyebrows as he tilted his head up to look at Dean. Dean quickly untangled one arm from around the angel, smoothing the crease between his brows with a gentle swipe of his thumb. He chuckled faintly at Cas' expression.

"It's a joke, Cas," Dean assured him.

"Oh… My apologies," Castiel ducked his head, returning to his position lounging on Dean's chest. He was obviously embarrassed, but Dean didn't have the heart to call him out on it. Silence fell between the two men as Dean continued to run his hands tenderly over the curve of Castiel's trench-coat covered spine, staring mindlessly at the world outside the Impala for a long time.

He didn't know how to answer Cas' question, now that he thought about it. Sleep had been illusive lately, but he had no idea why it was. He always spent hours thrashing beneath the sheets before he wandered out and drank himself unconscious, just so he could get some form of rest. He could blame it on the nightmares, or his growing pile of secrets, or maybe that itch at the back of his mind that told him to take care of Sam- that itch he never could quite scratch.

Outside the window, a bird chirped, scattering his thoughts.

"Sam will be awake soon." Dean sighed, wondering where the time had gone as he glanced at the pink lines of dawn on the horizon. Had he dozed off in his thoughts? Or had he simply fallen asleep with his eyes open? Castiel hot breath stirred against his throat as he exhaled, and Dean smiled faintly at the angel's annoyed expression as he leaned away from Dean.

"I suppose that means I have to go?" He whispered.

"Unfortunately," Dean confirmed.

Castiel's frown broke Dean's heart, but he didn't let any of the pain through as Cas moved away from him, crossing his arms over his chest. A shiver passed through the angel's body that had Dean aching to pull him back into his arms and hold him close.

"I suppose we should meet again, whenever you are next alone I mean," Castiel muttered, trying to hide the hopeful tone of his voice as he glanced at Dean from under his long lashes. Dean smiled tiredly, nodding, and reached across the small void between the two to twine his fingers through Castiel's.

"Come tomorrow night," He said softly. "Or… Tonight, I guess. Whenever it is, it'll be just you and me- and an actual bed for once, instead of the Impala," He promised his lover. Castiel seemed to beam at the thought, flashing bright white teeth as he smiled.

"I would like that," He told Dean shyly.

"Good," Dean replied, and leaned across the space to place a lingering kiss on Castiel's forehead. "Now get your feathery ass outta here before my baby brother wakes up," He ordered affectionately and Castiel offered one last smile before a rush of wind sounded his exit, and the space between Dean's fingers suddenly became quite cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Hello, Dean," The husky voice was followed by the soft tickling of breath against his face, and Dean smiled lazily as he felt the bed dip beneath the weight of a new body and the soft thud of empty shoes falling to the floor. Though his eyes were closed, Dean knew Castiel was hovering quietly near his body; he never ceased to do this, waiting until Dean gave him permission to come close.

Silently, Dean cracked open one eye and opened his arms in offer to the shy angel before him. Castiel's lips quirked in a small smile as he moved into Dean's embrace, his slim frame fitting perfectly within Dean's arms. Dean smiled as Cas tried to get as close as possible, shivering as he felt the angel's soft breath tickling his skin at a closer proximity.

"I missed you," Dean muttered quietly, letting his eyes close once more as Castiel shifted on top of him, his legs tangling with Dean's and his arms winding their way around the hunter's neck as he attempted to become comfortable.

"Mmm," Castiel replied lazily, pressing his cheek to the warm skin of Dean's shoulder.

Dean chuckled as he sifted his fingers absentmindedly through his angel's hair, combing the knots out of the silky raven mess. Castiel made a soft noise of content, his eyelids fluttering tiredly as he clung to his hunter.

"Dean," Cas grumbled a protest, propping himself up on his elbows and resting his chin on his palms. Dean gazed affectionately up at Cas, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he cocked an eyebrow in question.

"You are trying to trick me in to sleep," Castiel accused quietly. Dean blushed, muttering a soft disagreement as he closed his eyes once more. Castiel couldn't help his own smile as he shifted his chin to his left palm, freeing his right hand so as the trace the shape of Dean's jaw.

"Dean," Castiel said softly, running his thumb lightly over the hunters bottom lip.

"Cas," Dean replied, his eyes opening once more. His dark hazel gaze met Castiel's cerulean one, warm and welcoming as he tightened his hold on the angel's waist.

Though Castiel had intended to speak, he found that he didn't have the breath to. In all the time since his creation, he had never met anyone like Dean Winchester; he had never seen someone so broken, and so beautiful- someone who could steal away the breath of an angel without trying.

Castiel bowed his head, allowing his hair to fall across his face.

"Why are you hiding?" Dean whispered, peering at the angel through the curtain of black hair that separated them.

"I'm… embarrassed," Castiel bluntly muttered. Dean laughed, only helping to darken the coloring in Castiel's cheeks as pressed a soft kiss to the angel's neck.

"Why are you embarrassed Cas? It's not like I caught you with your pants around your ankles or anything," Dean probed.

"It is nothing," Castiel insisted, biting the inside of his cheek; it was a horrible human habit his vessel had that he had never thought to erase. Dean rolled his eyes at the bashful angel, brushing the hair away from his face with a swipe of his hand. Castiel's pink-tinged cheeks greeted him, and he smiled as he tilted the angels head towards his, pressing his lips gently against the other man's.

Castiel's blush worsened as he quickly broke away from the contact and burrowed his face into Dean's neck. Dean let out a frustrated huff, his own face heating; he rarely kissed Castiel on the lips, and every time he did Cas took to hiding.

"What am I going to do with you?" He grumbled in affectionate annoyance as he kissed the top of Cas' head. Castiel gave no answer as the two laid there for an unknown amount of time, contently tangled together.

"Are we ever going to tell Sam?" The simple question shattered the peaceful silence, flooding Dean's body with tension.

Instinctually, Dean blurted the answer "no."

Castiel sighed, untangling himself from the hunter and sitting cross-legged on the bed beside Dean. "I do not see the necessity in hiding this from him, Dean; he's your brother."

"Cas, I said no." Dean sighed, running his hands tiredly over his face.

"Sam is my friend," Castiel persisted. "And I do not see it right to leave him the dark on this matter. We have been seeing each other for over a year, and it is high time Sam know."

"I'm not telling him." Dean grumbled, staring resolutely at the ceiling above his head. It was an argument he and Castiel could never overcome, and a decision that weighed like a ton of bricks on Dean's shoulders.

"If you are concerned about his reaction to your sexual preferences, Dean, he will not care." Castiel tried, his fingers playing silently with the hem of Dean's shirt. "As long as you are happy, and he knows I care for you as you care for me, I'm sure Sam will be more than content."

"You know it's not that simple, Cas!" Dean snapped. Castiel shrunk back, his hand falling away from Dean's shirt as if it had suddenly caught fire. Dean muttered a curse, wanting to hit himself for frightening the angel. Sitting up, Dean reached out and gingerly took one of Castiel's hands in both his own.

"It's not that simple." He repeated again, his voice kinder. Castiel's eyes stared blankly at the callused hands enclosing his, fighting the strange urge to cry; damn Dean, and the human emotions he evoked.

"Cas…" Dean tried again for the angel's attention, receiving no response once more. Castiel had sunk back into his shy little shell, and it was his fault. Despite the desire to punish himself, Dean simply sat still; he ran his thumbs gently over the back of Cas' hand, his eyes downcast as his thoughts drifted.

The fact of the matter was that his romance with their angel friend was strictly off limits; humans and angels weren't meant to be together, especially two men. Though homosexuality wasn't a big deal upstairs, the species differentiation was highly distasteful to Cas' superiors, and he and the angel suffered for it with every day that went by; Castiel was banned from Heaven and constantly on the run, while Dean often found himself being dragged into dark alleys and attacked by nameless angels.

"It's not that simple." Dean whispered for a third time, more so to himself than to the silent man sitting across from him. He wished with every fiber of his being that he could tell Sam- that he didn't have to restrain himself from slipping his arms around Castiel's thin waist while Sam was watching, or leave Sam alone to secretly meet with Castiel at night.

If Sam knew, Sam would be in just as much danger as he and Castiel were- and Dean Winchester would never willingly put his baby brother in danger.

Silently, Dean released Castiel's hand and wound his arms around the angel's petite form, drawing him close. Castiel didn't resist, nor did he pull away to hide as Dean's lips pressed firmly against his own and callused fingers brushed tenderly against the small of his back. The angel's pale fingers found their place in Dean's short cropped hair, his knees settling on either side of Dean's hips and his lips moving silently in time with his lovers.

Neither men gave thought to their argument, or the sunrise that was only hours away. They didn't think of the complications of their romance, or the secrecy of it- because those things were not simple, but love was.

So they loved.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Dean's head throbbed, his grip on the steering wheel leaving his knuckles white. His eyelids were heavy, threatening to fall closed as he drove. Exhaustion rested in his body like a disease, sucking all the energy out of his tired limbs and leaving him a bleary-eyed mess at all hours of the day. His shirt was on inside-out, and a growing layer of stubble exhibited his negligence to shave that morning.

It was closing in on midnight now, and all Dean's tired mind could focus on was the frigid breeze blowing in through the open window of the Impala. It had been close to a month since he heard from Castiel, and the angel seemed to avoiding him like the plague; every mental call, or voicemail left on his cell phone remained unanswered. Not only did the distance leave a hollow aching in his chest, but it allowed worry to slip into his head and harass him. Had his angel been hurt? Was Castiel angry with him? What could possibly hold Castiel at bay for a whole month?

A sharp gasp to his right shook Dean from his thoughts. Sam's eyes were wide and frightened, his hands shaking as he gripped the sides of the seats hard enough to leave crescent imprints in the leather. Dean reached out a comforting hand, settling it on Sam's shoulder and squeezing the taut muscles there gently.

"'S okay, Sammy," Dean assured him, his tired eyes flickering between the road and his panicked younger brother. Sam's chest heaved, his breathing loud enough to be heard over the wind blowing in through the windows. He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes closed as Dean continued to massage his shoulder; it was the same comfort he offered every time Sam awoke from a nightmare.

Sam had been prone to nightmares for as long as Dean could remember; some of his earliest memories of his brother were his cries and screams when he woke in the dead of the night. The nightmares only got worse the older he became; Dean didn't think they could have gotten worse after Jess died, but the night after Sam had walked in to find their dead father Dean simply couldn't condole him.

He shuddered to think of what Sam had suffered through while he was in Hell.

"Want to talk about it?" He asked quietly once Sam seemed to have calmed, offering his shoulder one more squeeze before returning his grip to the wheel.

"I had a dream about Cas."

The Impala came to a screaming halt on the highway, and Dean was suddenly more awake than he had been in days. Sam stared at his older brother in surprise, opening his mouth to speak before Dean cut him off.

"What do you mean? What happened in the dream, Sam?"

"He… He, uh… He was trying to talk to me," Sam answered shakily, running a hand through his hair; he could sense the urgency in Dean's voice. For some reason, that only made the nightmare more real. "He said he'd been trying to talk to you, but… You weren't answering, and… He started…"

"What?" Dean pressed. "What happened, Sammy?"

"He looked scared, Dean… Really scared- I didn't think angels had emotions,"

"Cas has more emotions than most humans." The fire in Dean's eyes caught Sam off guard, and he blinked at his brother in question.

Dean's whole body was shaking as he pressed his fingers to his lips, his thoughts jumping around. Cas couldn't get through to him, all because he was too stubborn to sleep; Cas was scared, and Dean had been too busy trying to avoid nightmares to meet with him in his dreams. This was his fault, but most importantly- something was very wrong; why couldn't Cas just mojo himself to meet up with them?

"Son of a bitch," He mumbled, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"It was just a nightmare, Dean- I'm sure Cas is fine," Sam offered quietly. Dean jerked his head towards Sam, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"I haven't heard from Cas in a month- that wasn't a nightmare," He snarled. "Something is wrong, and Cas is trying to get to us- what did he say to you? What _exactly_ did he say, Sam?"

"Nothing," Sam answered honestly. "It was like he was talking, but I couldn't hear him."

Dean growled a curse, hitting the steering wheel in his frustration. His eyes fell closed, his heart constricting painfully in his chest; not his angel… anything but his angel…

"I need to sleep," He whispered to himself, running his hands through his hair. "Maybe I'll be able to hear him, profound bond and all that…"

"Good idea… Want me to drive?" Sam offered, watching the emotions flitting across his brother's face. Something in him wanted to question Dean's panic for Castiel, but something else told him to let it drop; Dean hadn't rested in months, and he had always been overprotective of his friends and family. Maybe that's why he was so stressed about the Cas situation.

"Yeah," Dean agreed distractedly, moving to lie down in the back of the Impala as Sam clambered into the driver's seat. Soon the soft purr of the engine sounded and they moved forward, the howl of the wind through the open windows sounding once more.

Dean settled himself, using his jacket as a pillow, as he forced his tired eyes closed. A comforting darkness greeted him, and he wound his arms around himself as a sudden chill settled over his skin- and, slowly, he fell into sleep.

A soft breeze tugged at Dean's clothes, carrying with it the scent of rain and decaying leaves. A soft breeze passed through the trees as they swayed over his head, the sky beyond them gray with the signs of an approaching winter. Dead leaves crunched under Dean's feet as he shifted nervously from foot to foot, his eyes scanning the forest around him.

As he studied his surroundings, Dean listened to the soft whispers of voices as they floated with the breeze- many, he found, were familiar. Tugging his jacket tighter around himself, he moved slowly forward through the forest; the voices seemed to grow louder, their faces unmistakable in Dean's mind.

Sam's bellowing laughter, Bobby's grouchy cursing, Anna's gentle whisper, and a thousand different voices he didn't recognize; they floated around Dean like a gentle cloud, soothing and warm as he walked through the mist-blanketed forest. More than any other voice, however, he heard his own.

_Please_.

His voice was low- rough and breathless, helpless in every sense of the word. A shudder ripped through Dean's body at the sound of his own voice, so lost and desperate. Though he didn't ever remember saying this, he knew that must have been the first word he said to Cas; only in Hell could someone sound that broken.

_I need you_.

Dean's chest constricted, his hands tightening into fists within the pockets of his coat. He could remember saying this so vividly- the memory was scarred into his brain, and it would never disappear. He could remember each agonized moment that passed as he waited for Cas to come back to him- waited for the glassy eyes, and the raised weapon to disappear.

_I love you_, _Cas_.

This version of his voice was gentle, whispered so that only one pair of ears could hear it. Dean smiled faintly as he remembered the feel of Cas' body pressed close to his, a blanket draped over their bodies and the stars stretching endlessly above their heads. Cas had been so surprised by Dean's words that he'd shed a tear, whispering that he didn't deserve Dean's love- and he didn't, Dean agreed.

Castiel was far too good to be loved by someone like Dean Winchester.

Dean strained his ears, listening for anything else and frowning when nothing could be heard; the whispers had fallen silent, leaving him with his own thoughts. The forest around him now seemed vast and frightening, as if the mist surrounding his feet would swallow him.

"Cas?" Dean called out shyly, forcing himself to focus on his reason for dreaming as opposed to the dream itself. Things weren't frightening or twisted in this dream, but there was no guarantee that they'd stay that way; the sooner he found Cas, the sooner he could wake up.

Taking a step forward, Dean suddenly fell into open air. A surprised shout left his mouth as he fell, scrambling for something to take hold of; anything to keep him tethered to that forest, where the whispers of his past resided. He didn't want to end up in the depths of Hell, or the lush forests of purgatory; he simply wanted one dream where things didn't go wrong.

He hit the ground with bone-jarring force.

Gasping at the sudden lack of air in his chest, Dean stared at the tiny blip of light that represented the forest from which he'd fallen; his body ached from the fall, and his head throbbed in time with his rapid heartbeat. The dream had started to go bad, Dean realized- as they always did. He took his time to compose himself, hoping to stall the progression of the dream, breathing in the smell of damp earth and something sweeter that he couldn't place.

Dean closed his eyes.

"Dean," The voice was distant, but familiar. Dean lurched to his feet, vision swimming unhealthily, and began to look around the small space he'd fallen into. As far as he could see, there was nothing more than root-infested dirt surrounding him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of light.

It was flickering like the channels of a static-clogged television, the silhouette of a body appearing and reappearing continually. The figure was lying in the fetal position, forehead pressed to knees and hands gripping their head. Dean took a cautious step forward, and then froze when cerulean eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Dean," Castiel whispered, his voice barely existent. Dean scrambled forward, kneeling and reaching out to pull the angel into his arms; to his surprise, his hands moved through empty air, passing through Cas' body without pause.

"Dean," Castiel repeated in the same broken tone, his eyes searching Dean's face expectantly.

"Cas, tell me what's going on- tell me where you are," Dean hurried, frustration, anxiety, and longing mixing in a dangerous chemical combination within his chest.

"Washington," Cas muttered in reply, his voice fading further as his eyelids fluttered close. Dean wanted so badly to pull the angel into his arms- to make a promise of safety, and comfort. His body physically ached with the need. He reached out, tracing his fingers over the empty air that should have been Cas' cheek bones. As if he could feel the touch, Cas' eyes slowly fluttered open, and his lips parted as if he were preparing to speak.

Dean leaned closer, his fingers brushing over the non-existent line of Cas' jaw, his hair, his neck… All he could offer for comfort, while he waited for his angel to speak. Cas' seemed unable to move past his quiet, open mouthed expression though; his body flickered, his eyes widening with panic, but he couldn't answer Dean when he pleaded for him to stay.

As Cas flickered out of existence, his eyes wide, Dean's hand remained hovering over the open air that should have been his angel's lips.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Dean had been stumbling through the Olympic National Forest all evening, and his lips had long ago turned blue with cold. Small flurries of snow trickled past the branches of the towering trees over him, sticking to his coat and hair like small crystals. His face was numb, and his palms were raw and bloody due to many stumbled falls onto the forest floor.

None of those things mattered to Dean, though; finding Castiel was the only thing on his radar.

Sam trailed behind his brother silently, his hands tucked under his arm pits in search of warmth. Though he never questioned Dean's frantic search for their angel friend, he was slowly growing weary of their new hiking and camping routine. His feet ached, and his face had been numb with cold for almost three days. He was dangerously close to calling the search off many times, but seeing the pain in his brother's eyes deepen with every step they took froze the words in his throat.

"You tired?" Sam glanced up, surprised to see Dean watching him; it was the first time he'd spoken in the near week since his dream about Cas, let alone taken Sam's well-being into consideration.

"Yeah," He found himself admitting. "I am."

Nodding, Dean stepped down from the rock he'd been perched on and dropped his bag at the base of a large moss-covered tree. Sam followed his brother's example, lowering himself to the ground beside their packs with a relieved sigh. His limbs ached, and his body shook with the force of his shivering; Dean was just as exhausted, but he didn't bother with sitting. Instead, he began to pitch their tent. After several nights spent fighting with the collapsible home, it didn't take him too long to set it up near the base of the tree. Sam nodded appreciatively from where he'd managed to get a pitiful fire burning.

"You've gotten good at that," He praised his older sibling, hoping to earn a smile.

Dean simply nodded, as grim as ever. Sam visibly deflated, his shoulders dropping forward and a heavy sigh passing his lips as he stared irritably at the flames in front of him. Dean swatted away the guilt tugging at his chest, burying his hands in his pockets and standing silently beside the small flames. Warmth tickled the tips of his toes and spread through his shins, but outside of that he remained contently chilled.

Unaware of Sam's staring, Dean looked pass the fire and into the midnight-shadows of the forest. His eyes glazed over, and he bit down on the inside of his cheek as he fought against the ever constant thoughts of his angel- he was somewhere out there, waiting for Dean to rescue him… And Dean couldn't find him. Combing his fingers through his snow-dampened hair, Dean continued to stare into the void of the surrounding wilderness.

"You need to get some rest, Dean." Sam tried quietly, but Dean didn't stir; his eyes remained distant and clouded, in a world Sam couldn't be a part of.

He remained that way for a long time, even as Sam prepared and finished dinner, set up his sleeping bag in the tent, and stomped out the fire; any attempt to shake the older Winchester from his stupor went unnoticed, until at last Sam rested a large hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean blinked slowly, returning to reality, and turned to look at his younger brother.

"Dean… We're going to find him," Sam assured quietly, and like rubber-band that had been pulled too taut, Dean broke. His shoulders sagged, his legs wobbling unsteadily beneath him, and his eyes closed against an onslaught of tears.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, hanging his head. "I know,"

"Any chance I can take first watch?" Sam tried hopefully, holding his brother's shoulder tightly; Dean looked close to collapse.

"None, Sammy boy," Dean offered a weak smile, finally opening his eyes and meeting Sam's gaze. The smile seemed to put a new glimmer of hope in his baby brother's eyes, and Sam stood a bit taller as he dropped his hand from Dean's shoulder and moved slowly towards the tent, a smile of his own growing.

"Alright, well… Wake me up when it's my turn?"

"Sure thing," Dean nodded, wrapping his arms around himself and turning away from his brother. He listened to Sam shuffling about for awhile, then the zip of the tent door, before things were finally silent. Sighing, he kicked at a stick under foot and began to pace a slow circle around their camping site.

As they always did when he was alone, his thoughts drifted to Cas. They couldn't possibly be far from him now- they'd covered more ground than Dean could keep track of, and there wasn't much left. Part of him said that Cas was long gone; dead, or kidnapped, he didn't know. The other part of him wanted to believe that Cas was just out of reach, waiting anxiously for the Winchester's to reach him.

He didn't want to know which part of him was right.

Glancing towards the tent where his brother was sleeping, Dean warily propped himself against one of the large trees surrounding the clearing. His hands stung in his pockets, and he pulled them out to stare at his bloody palms with a grim expression. He didn't remember feeling any previous pain, but now they were burning so violently they couldn't be ignored.

Dropping his hands to his sides, Dean ignored the raw wounds.

His throat swelled close, tears surging forward with surprising strength; exhaustion had him physically and emotionally wrecked, and the only time he could truly break down was when he knew Sam wasn't watching- because he had to protect Sam; had to be strong, for Sam. He always had been, and always would be, strong for the sake of his Sammy.

So why couldn't he be strong for Cas, too, he wondered? Why did one person's absence tear him apart in more ways than losing his brother ever had? Why was each day so hard without Cas? Why did he have more drive to find and protect Cas then he ever had for Sam?

He didn't know, and he didn't think he ever would.

Dean sighed, sliding down the base of the tree trunk he was propped against and coming to a rest on the frigid moss-covered ground. Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingertips to his temples and began to massage the skin there tenderly; migraines had become a common occurrence in Dean's daily life, and he could feel one sneaking up from the quiet depths of his mind at that exact moment.

"_Dean!_" His brain immediately jumped to the conclusion that Sam was calling out from a nightmare, but the sound of shuffling feet and huffed curses told him otherwise. He was on his feet in a matter of seconds, stumbling into the dark center of the clearing where Sam was struggling with a figure much smaller than himself. A knife was pressed the smaller figures throat, Sam's eyes still half-glazed with sleep and his chest heaving. Dean moved forward instinctually, wrenching the figure out of Sam's grip and slamming him into the trunk of the nearest tree.

The man, whom he recognized as a male by the smooth chest heaving under his fingers, let out a shuddering breath, his eyes closed tight. Dean scowled, glaring at the mud-caked face, his grip on the man's shirt tightening in his anger. He should have been outside the tent- should have gotten to this creep before he could startle Sam awake- should have been there for Cas- should have found Cas already; should have, should have, _should have_.

"Dean," Sam tried, his voice startled. Dean barely caught the flash of a knife in the moonlight as it slipped back into Sam's boot, and Sam moved forward to stand at his side. "Dean, let him go."

"What the hell- Sammy, you just yelled like this bastard was trying to rape you, and you want me to let him go?" Dean roared, shoving hard against the stranger's chest in his frustrated confusion. A terrible sound gurgled past the stranger's lips, the cough wet and crackling with the amount of fluid in it, and a soft sob broke through the stranger's silent façade.

"Dammit, Dean, just hold on a damn minute!" Sam snapped, physically ripping Dean from the stranger. Dean's blood boiled at dangerous levels, his confusion only growing, and he clenched his hands at his sides. Sam grabbed the stranger under the arms, holding him up, and muttered something lowly to the figure. Dean watched as the man tilted his mud-caked face towards the ground, small pale trails appearing on his cheeks as tears spilled past his barely-opened eyes.

"D-Dean," The man whimpered, and Dean's blood turned to ice.

A clouded cerulean gaze rose to meet his, irises rimmed red from crying and dirty face drawn tight with pain- and Dean could do nothing but collapse.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Sam was watching him, Dean knew, but he made no attempt to appear less attached to Cas then he was. He was embarrassed for falling apart a few hours ago, but the relief and guilt that had welled in his chest upon seeing Cas had simply been too much; he'd fallen to the forest floor, crying and –for the first time in a long time- thanking God.  
"You okay, Dean?" Sam asked quietly, disrupting the harsh sound of Cas' breathing as it flooded the tent. Dean looked away from Cas' muddy face only for a brief moment, smiling weakly and nodding at his brother, before his eyes were pulled back to his angel.

Sam watched his brother curiously, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Dean's eyes, usually cold and detached, had a gentle light that Sam hadn't seen since he was a child. Though he was trying to ignore it, Sam couldn't miss the soft trailing of Dean's fingers over Cas' knuckles, or the brush of his lips over Cas' temple every time he leaned over the angel to grab something from his bag. Every brush of skin, or soft hair-stirring breath, caused Cas' eyelids to flutter as he slept and Dean's lips to twitch with a smile.

The younger Winchester had always had his suspicions about the bond between Dean and Castiel, but these small things seemed to confirm them.

"How long?" Sam asked quietly, his voice gentle as he smiled and leaned back against his folded sleeping bag; neither one of the brother's had been able to sleep since Cas' stumbled into their camp, and they didn't bother trying to pretend like they could.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, sitting up. Cas' shoulder pressed into his leg, betraying how close the two were sitting as Dean wrapped his arms around himself with a shudder; his missing jacket, draped over Cas' sleeping form, left his arms bare to the nights chill.

"How long have you two been a couple?" Sam clarified. Dean choked uneasily, his face flushing red and his eyes looking anywhere but at his brother.

"It's not like that, Sammy," He muttered gruffly after a few moments of silence.

"That's bullshit, and you know it," Sam rolled his eyes. Dean fell silent again for a long time, considering his choices.  
"I don't know," He finally admitted, his fingers carding through Cas' hair on their own accord. The angel twitched restlessly in his sleep, turning to press his face into Dean's jeans. "Awhile, I guess,"  
Dean honestly couldn't remember the day he fell in love with Castiel. He blamed it on the fact that his love for the angel had always been present, he'd simply spent years burying it under alcohol and pointless sex which had led to an unsure timeline of their romantic endeavor. It honestly didn't matter to him the timing of things, though; all he cared about was that he knew he loved Castiel, and… It was time Sam knew, safety aside.  
"How come you never told me? Honestly, Dean, we've been through hell together- literally. You think I'd be upset because you're gay?" Sam scoffed.

"No, I… There are a lot of people that aren't happy with this," Dean sighed. "With what he and I have… I was trying to keep you out of harm's way,"

Sam frowned, watching his brother as he stared down at Castiel. The angel seemed to have calmed a bit, mud slipping off his face and staining Dean's jeans, but Dean didn't seem to mind; he simply continued to run his fingers through the angel's hair, his fingers occasionally brushing over Cas' forehead.

"Why?" Sam wondered, mostly to himself.

"Because he's an angel," Dean whispered. "And a human is not good enough for him… Not to mention, I'm the one who said 'fuck destiny' and messed up Heaven's plans, so that doesn't help my credit upstairs."

"They're unhappy, that's understandable, but… How is that dangerous? Just ignore them," Sam shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Sammy," Dean laughed without humor. "We've been attacked- both of us. Cas usually gets the worst of it, but..."

"Oh," Sam muttered, understanding building in his eyes. "All those nights you came in bloody- they weren't bar fights, were they?"

Dean shook his head slowly, lowering his eyes. To Dean's relief, Castiel's rattling cough interrupted whatever it was Sam planned to say next. The angel's eyes fluttered open, still cloudy with exhaustion and sickness, and he rubbed his cheek against the denim of Dean's jeans like a content cat.

"Hey," Dean whispered, brushing hair away from Cas' eyes. The angel blinked up at him, his face a mask of surprise.

"Dean?" He whispered.

"The one and only," He nodded, smiling weakly. Cas seemed to come apart at the statement, a soft sob shaking his body before he exploded into tears. Startled, Dean wound his arms around the angel and pulled him into his lap without much thought; Cas made himself smaller than Dean thought possible, pressing his face into the collar of Dean's shirt and winding his fingers possessively into the material.

"Shh," Dean soothed, running his hands gently through Cas' hair and over the pattern of his spine. Sam watched the two men across from him, surprised by both Cas' outburst and Dean's surprisingly gentle nature towards the angel.

"You came," Cas choked, repeating the statement like a prayer as Dean tried to soothe him. Cas' sobs were interrupted by rough coughs and pained whines, each one making Dean cringe. The older Winchester's gaze flickered up to meet the younger's, his eyes wide and panicked.

"Can angels get sick?" Dean mouthed, pulling Cas' shivering body closer to his own as the angel began to calm within his embrace. He wound a blanket around Castiel, allowing the angel to nuzzle into his neck and hide there as he coughed harshly.

Sam didn't answer- the aversion of his eyes said everything; something was very wrong with Castiel.


	6. Chapter 6

**_CHAPTER SIX_**

_Hospital._ The word had crawled into Dean's mind days ago and settled itself there with the sole purpose of driving him insane. Those three syllables echoed every rattling cough that passed Castiel's lips, and haunted Dean whenever he managed to catch a few minutes of sleep. Until now, propped against the squeaky headboard of a Motel-6 queen sleeper, the word hadn't actually passed his lips.

"Dean… You really want to take an angel to a hospital?" Sam sighed over his cup of coffee, tired rings under his eyes exposing a lack of sleep that Dean felt responsible for; the younger Winchester had been working his ass off to find some kind of information on how to cure the angel-flu while Dean took care of the actual angel.

"He hardly looks angelic right now," Dean shrugged, glancing down at Castiel's pale face where his head was settled in the hunter's lap. Though it had only been three days since Cas' stumbled upon their camp, the angel had lost a significant amount of weight- the fact that he wouldn't eat anything only made the situation worse.

"It's not a good idea," Sam repeated, taking a long sip of his coffee and rubbing irritably at his eyes. "There's a whole list of possible anatomical differences between him and us,"

"But he's sick, Sam," Dean sighed. "The kind of sick that a bottle of aspirin and a few shots of NyQuil isn't going to fix, and since we don't have anything but that to offer… the hospital seems like our only option,"

"We could try out some different forms of medicine," Sam countered.

"Sam," Dean sighed, his head falling back against the headboard with a thud. Castiel stirred restlessly, his head shifting where it was cushioned on Dean's thigh, and the hunter frowned as he ran a gentle hand up and down the angel's sleeping back.

Sam simply shrugged, climbing out of his chair and retiring to the bed opposite Dean; it was obvious that he would not be swayed on the matter of hospitalization. Dean drew small circles on Castiel's spine, his fingers dragging smoothly over the fabric of his lover's shirt as he thought.

"Did you find anything online?" Dean finally asked, glancing towards his baby brother. Sam was sprawled out on top of the bed, one arm draped over his eyes and his wild hair fanning out around his head.

"Sort of," Sam frowned.

"Sort of?" Dean cocked an eyebrow.

"There's no lore on angelic sickness that I can find," Sam explained tiredly. "But, I looked up all his symptoms… There's a list of infections he could be suffering from, but the most likely is pneumonia."

Dean huffed out a relieved breath at the news, tension draining out of his body that he hadn't realized he was holding. "Pneumonia isn't bad," He smiled weakly at the sleeping angel in his lap, then at his brother. "He just needs some antibiotics- right?"

"Antibiotics should work," Sam shrugged, rolling over on his side and tucking the pillow between his head and his arm. "But you're going to have to get a doctor's appointment."

"So I can take him to the doctor, but not the hospital?" Dean frowned, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"They're not going to examine him if you tell the doctor he has pneumonia," Sam yawned. "Just tell them you transferred over from Seattle and he ran out of medication, and your medical records are in transfer so you can't get a refill yet. Once they see the shape Cas is in, they're bound to give you something."

Dean nodded silently, letting his eyes close as he relaxed against the headboard. The quiet mummer of traffic and Cas' harsh breathing soothed him, helping him to believe that everything was okay for just one moment. Soon, the soft sound of Sam's snores joined the symphony and Dean actually managed a smile. Opening his eyes, he glanced at his baby brother to find him fast asleep.

Dean chuckled, noticing his brother had fallen asleep fully dressed as he used to when he was a toddler. Taking care not to wake Castiel, Dean slipped out of the bed and crossed the room silently to his where his brother was sleeping. Careful not to shift his brother's legs, Dean tugged Sam's feet free of their shoes and socks and set them neatly beside the bed. Grabbing the quilt at the end of the bed, he draped it gently over Sam's sleeping form and placed a soft kiss on his brother's forehead – something he would never do if Sam was awake.

"Night, Sammy boy," He whispered, moving away from the bed and deciding now would be the opportune moment for a shower; Sam was sleeping, and Castiel was too.

Heading into the bathroom, he started the shower and undressed while he waited for the water to heat. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he was taken aback by his own reflection; he had dark rings under his eyes, and three days worth of stubble was living on his face. His cheeks were sunken, his skin pale.

When had he lost weight?

Shivering in the cool air of the bathroom, Dean ran his hands over the faint outlines of his rib cage and took a shaky breath. He had been eating, hadn't he? He had a cheese burger this week… One cheeseburger, in one week- it was all he could remember. His stomach had been turning for months; whether it was worrying about Castiel or a side-effect of the nightmares he didn't know, but it was obviously affecting his health.

Shaking his head, Dean made a note to blow all his cash at the nearest McDonald's whenever he had a chance and stepped into the shower. The warm water rolled over his weary body, and he sighed quietly at the relief it provided to the constant tension present in his shoulders. Letting his eyes close, he pressed his forehead to the cool tiles of the shower wall and just let himself relax for a brief moment- let himself to forget to worry about Castiel, or Sam, or the nightmares…

For a brief and peaceful time, his mind was quiet and blank.

"Dean?" The voice startled him and he jumped, slipping on the linoleum floor and narrowly avoiding a fall as he grabbed the handicap bar. His heard jerked rapidly in his chest, all his thoughts rushing back in a flood of noise.

"Yeah?" Poking his head out past the shower curtain, Dean was surprised to see Cas sitting quietly beside the tub; the quilt from the bed was wrapped around his shoulders, and he was looking up at Dean with eyes like the sky before a storm.

"Cas, what're you doing in here?" He asked gently, lowering himself to his knees in the tub. He was now eye level with Castiel, reaching out to push the angel's dark hair away from his eyes. Castiel leaned into the touch, holding Dean's hand captive as he leaned his cheek into the hunter's callused palm.

"I was going to ask if you could help me shower," A faint blush appeared on the angel's face as he nuzzled Dean's wrist affectionately, his nose dragging gently against the skin and raising goose bumps. "But when I came in, you weren't singing like you usually do … I thought perhaps you didn't want to be bothered,"

"You aren't bothering me," Dean assured the timid angel, smiling as he ran his thumb gently over the sharp angle of his jaw. "If you'll get undressed, I'd be more than happy to have some company."

"Alright," Castiel whispered, his lips brushing Dean's palm as he turned his head. A small bolt of electricity went straight from the point and hummed pleasantly through Dean's body; it was an effect Castiel had always had on him. Climbing to his feet, Dean watched as Castiel slowly undressed through a fit of coughs and sniffles.

Seeing Castiel naked was never an unpleasant event for Dean; he was absolutely beautiful. His skin was milky and smooth, his body slim but not lacking muscularly. What caused the sharp stab of pain in Dean's chest was not his angel's beautiful body- it was the weight missing from it. The sharp lines of his ribs and the bony knobs of his hips were almost painful to look at.

He hadn't noticed Castiel's hurt expression until the angel reached for the quilt once more, pulling it tightly around his body.

"What're you doing?" Dean frowned. "Cas, you can't shower with the quilt,"

"You think I'm unpleasant to look at," Cas rasped, his eyes watering. Dean sighed, shaking his head as he motioned Castiel to come closer; the angel was sensitive to begin with, but the sensitivity had only grown worse with his sickness. Honoring Dean's wishes, Castiel came close enough that his knees hit the tub.

"I don't think that," Dean assured him, gently tugging at the quilt. Castiel had a white-knuckled grip on it, but it slowly loosened until the quilt fell away. "I think you're beautiful, Cas… I'm just worried about how much weight you've lost," Dean admitted as he gently coaxed Castiel into the tub with him.

The angel flinched as the water hit his back and Dean drew the shower curtain closed, trapping them in the small space together. The hunter settled his hands on Castiel's bony hips and pressed a gentle kiss to his lover's lips. Castiel smiled faintly before turning away to release a series of rattling coughs which had Dean's muscles tensing. When he turned back around, Cas' face was somewhat paler than before and he relied heavily on Dean for enough support to stand.

Dean gently slid a hand into the silky hair on the back of Castiel's head, guiding the angel's head down until it rested against his chest comfortably. Castiel slid thin arms around Dean's waist, his eyes falling closed as the hunter's free hand rubbed his back soothingly.

"It'll be alright, Cas," Dean whispered gently into the smooth strands of Castiel's hair.

The angel simply pressed closer, tilting his head up to catch Dean's lips against his, and tried to expel the doubt that clouded both their minds.


	7. Chapter 7

_**CHAPTER SEVEN**_

Dean had never made a doctor's appointment; any time he was sick as a child, he was expected to choke down an adult dosage of whatever medicine he could find and push through it. To his relief, Sam took the liberty of scheduling Castiel an appointment and giving Dean the forged-papers he needed to get Castiel some medicine. With the papers and the appointment in order, Dean didn't see any problem with making it through the appointment.

He realized the day before they were scheduled to be at the office that Castiel was in no shape to move. The angel had seemed to have taken a turn for the worst during the night, shaking Dean awake urgently with complaints of severe pain in his stomach. Dean, knowing he couldn't give him anymore medicine with the amount already in his system, rubbed gentle circles over the angel's stomach and tried his best to soothe him into sleep once more. It didn't work, though; Castiel had lurched out of bed and narrowly made it to the toilet before he was violently ill.

Dean had sat by his angel's side all night, leaning against the counter until Castiel collapsed weakly into the hunter's arms and sobbed, begging Dean to help him. Sam found them this way early the next morning, Dean's eyes wide open and staring blankly at the wall as he clutched a sleeping Castiel's shirt tightly in his hands; though the older Winchester would never admit it, he was scared.

Now cocooned in blankets, Castiel was fighting a raging fever and clutching his stomach at it twisted and cramped painfully; medication was of no use to them now, since the only thing Castiel could manage to keep down was water. Dean felt helpless for the first time in a long time as he sat on the floor beside the bed, holding one of Castiel's clammy hands where it hung off the edge of the bed; Sam wouldn't let him get in the bed with Castiel, fearing the angel's condition might be contagious after he caught Dean stifling coughs.

"Your appointment is in an hour," Sam muttered, startling Dean out of his glassy-eyed stupor. The older Winchester blinked tiredly at his younger brother, his hand slipping out of Castiel's limp grip and landing with a soft thud of the carpet.

"Alright… You think you can help him get dressed?" Dean sighed, looking towards Castiel. "I need to put some gas in the tank, and maybe grab some grub."

"Sure- take all the time you need," Sam nodded, tossing Dean his keys from they'd been laying on the small coffee table in the room. The older Winchester nodded thankfully to his brother, slipping the keys into his pocket as he smoothed out to the rumples in his shirt and snagged his coat off the back of a nearby chair. He paused only briefly to press a gentle kiss to Castiel's fever-slicked forehead before moving towards the door.

"You need anything?" He asked Sam just as he was swinging the door open.

"Grab a thermometer for him," Sam said, jerking his head towards Castiel. "And a salad for me, if you stop for food,"

"Fever stick and rabbit food," Dean nodded, smiling at his brother's five star bitch face as he stepped out the door and closed it behind himself.

Across the parking lot sat Dean's baby, calling out to him. It'd been three days since he left the hotel room, and three days since he'd taken the Impala for a spin. There was a light layer of snow on the car, and Dean brushed it irritably away from the windshield and hood before sliding into the '67. The smell of leather and gun powder greeted him like an old friend, the engine purring to life and Dean's fingers slotting into their familiar place on the steering wheel.

Dean let out a soft sigh, enjoying the peace that the car brought to him. The soft rumble of the engine vibrating through his body and the seat pressing warm and smooth against his back… He smiled, deciding that for just a little while he could take a moment to himself- to let himself unwind instead of constantly panicking himself about Cas' condition. Reaching into the glove box, he retrieved the small box of cassette tapes and chose one at random before tossing the rest into the passenger seat.

Slotting the tape into the player, he turned the volume up as high as he dared and grinned as the familiar music flooded into the car. The car shook with the force of the stereo and the music drowned out any thoughts that were trying to slip into Dean's attempted relaxation time. The door to several of the motel rooms in front of him swung open, his own room included. Sam stepped out, Castiel shuffling beside him with a quilt wrapped around his shoulders. Dean put the car in drive, knowing if he didn't leave now that he'd go back to Cas' side, burning rubber as he made for the street. A glance in his rearview mirror showed Sam laughing, and Castiel grinning like a fool.

AC/DC's _Back in Black_ soon drifted on to Metallica's _Enter Sandman_, Dean's off-pitch singing drifting along with the singer's. Though he preferred _Smoke on the Water_ over every other existing Metallica song, there wasn't a track by the band that Dean didn't know. His thumbs followed the pattern of the drums on the steering wheel, his head nodding along to the music as he flew down the highway.

The motel they'd chosen was about an hour outside of the nearest city, and there was little to nothing in terms of shopping around the area; if they wanted something, they had to find it in the next town over. It was only a ten minute ride thankfully. Dean had grabbed everything on his list, refilled the tank, and returned to the motel room in less than half an hour, eager to see Castiel again despite his attempts to relax.

Dean stepped into the motel room expecting to be greeted by Sam and Castiel, but found only an empty room instead. Frowning, he set his meager bag of groceries aside and called out for both his brother and his lover. Thinking Cas may have gotten sick again, Dean headed into the bathroom only to be greeted with the same uncomfortable silence.

As he was heading back into the room, he noticed a flap of paper taped to the back of the room's main door. Sighing, he moved quickly over to the spot and read the note over twice to make sure he wasn't just having another nightmare; _Cas collapsed. No answer from you. Called ambulance. Meet us at hospital. – Sam_

Fumbling to retrieve his phone from his pocket, he discovered that there wasn't a single missed call from Sam's number. Reaching for the knife in his jacket pocket, he spun to face the room; something must have forged Sam's signature… His little brother wouldn't call an ambulance. He would hold out until Dean came, no matter what… More importantly on his mind though, was that something had taken his little brother and his boyfriend. Making a point to look closer than he had before, Dean tried to find any signs of a struggle or anything else that would lead him to discover the cause behind the strange note.

Suddenly, a shrill ring startled him. Realizing it was his cell phone, he yanked the device from his pocket and huffed out a relieved breath when he saw the familiar number scrolling across the screen.

"Sammy?" He answered, his voice gruff with relief. "Where are you?"

"At the hospital," Sam sounded like he had just run a marathon, his voice coming out in a strained wheeze. "Didn't you see the note?"

"Yeah, I saw it," Dean slid the knife back in his pocket, combing his hand through his hair. "I didn't have any missed calls on my phone, so I figured someone had snagged you and Cas… Is he okay?"

"Dean, he's…" Sam huffed out a breath, and Dean's stomach made a sickening flip.

"He's what?" Dean hissed. "He's _what_, Sam?"

"He's alive, but barely… He's been asking for you, but-"

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Dean interrupted his little brother, ignoring Sam's protests as he ended the call; Castiel was asking for him, so Castiel would get him.

Not even bothering to lock the motel door behind himself, Dean slid into the Impala and punched the gas, hitting the highway at a steady ninety miles per hour. Exactly eight minutes and thirty-two seconds of silently loathing himself and watching the road before him, Dean came to a screeching halt in the hospital parking lot. Sam was standing out front waiting for his brother, shivering in his coat as a light snow began to fall from the darkened sky above their heads. Dean made his way to his brother with panic-quickened strides, making to pass him when Sam grabbed his arm and hauled him back.

"Dean, you can't go in." Sam whispered.

"The hell I can't!" Dean barked, pulling his arm out of Sam's grip and taking a few more steps forward before Sam caught him by the coat and pulled him back.

"Dean, you _can't_." Sam sounded almost pleading, but he should have seen it coming when Dean retaliated to his brother's attempts to keep him back with a solid punch to his jaw.

"Cas is asking for me. Do not tell me I can't go see him, little brother, because there is nothing in this world that will stop me from making it to his bedside." Dean growled, his eyes flashing dangerously; he felt no guilt for the forming bruise on Sam's jaw, none at all. Turning on his heel, Dean started into the building when Sam's voice behind him froze him solid.

"Will it stop you if I tell you you're the reason he's sick?"


End file.
